


Blisters and Benevolence

by Isolophiliac



Series: Idiosyncrasy Among Brothers [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Tim needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isolophiliac/pseuds/Isolophiliac
Summary: When Tim starts to fall into one of his more self-depicting moods Dick is there to cheer him up.





	Blisters and Benevolence

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after Jason's resurrection but before Damian, just so you know.

Over all his years of vigilante-ing and big brother-ing and just about everything in between Dick Grayson had been yet to find a better source of chaos than the Batcave. From heated arguments to dramatic exits, the cave had seen it all, but that didn’t make it any less worrying when his thirteen-year-old adoptive brother, Tim Drake stormed out of the Batmobile and up the rock-carved steps in an angry rush.

In fact, “What happened?” Were the first words out of his mouth the moment he heard the exit door slam shut.

Bruce Wayne, in all his Batman glory simply scowled as he made his way to the Batcomputer, his shoulders tense- a surefire sign that something was up.

“Nothing,” Bruce growled, not making any move to take off his cowl, “he’s overreacting.”

“Tim? Overreacting?!?” Dick asked, his disbelief just as apparent as the blue shades in his cobalt and azure eyes. Tim was calm, calculated, he always thought things through and he never, ever overreacted, at least he hadn’t yet.

Dick sighed, there was no way he was anything more out of Bruce, at least not while he was still in full-blown Batman-mode.

Might as well go straight to the source.

Walking through the Manor, like always, was like walking through a maze, but thanks to some practice and some Alfred-wisdom Dick had managed to get a pretty good mental floorplan, made, of course, with the high hopes that there weren’t any more of those secret passageways- especially after the one with the giant spiders.

After checking the roof, the abandoned basement kitchen, and the ceiling rafters- you know, all the obvious places Dick finally decided to go look in Tim’s bedroom.

Tim’s room, much like Tim himself, was clean, tidy and so neat it neared creepily, and sitting in the middle of the room, criss-cross-applesauce on top of the bed with his laptop resting on his knees and gelled-hair sticking up in all directions, most likely due to his nervous habit of running his hands through it, was Tim.

Maybe it was because of all the lessons he’d got on reading body language, or all the time he’d spent training the kid, but the moment he opened the door Dick knew that something a little worse than a temper tantrum was going on, not that Tim was the type to throw such things.

Tim looked up the moment he heard the door open, his stormy blue eyes scanning Dick’s lithe figure as he came into view.

“What happened?” Dick found himself asking for the second time within the hour as he closed the door behind him.

“Nothing,” Tim grumbled, his gaze returning to his laptop as he went back to typing away.

“Sure…” Dick rolled his eyes, of course, he wasn’t going to fess up to it, it was Tim he was talking about.

Tim’s gaze was unmoving from his computer’s screen and remained so as Dick sat down on the edge of his bed. “Are you sure about that?” He asked, staring intently at the younger boy.

“Yes! Seriously, Dick, I’m fine!” Tim snapped, further proving Dick’s suspicions.

“Really? Because the way you stormed out of the Batcave would’ve made Jason jealous.”

Tim didn’t look up from the screen, but his incessant typing slowly came to an end.

“- And Bruce wasn’t too happy either…” Dick added, taking careful note of the way Tim’s shoulders tensed.

“Did you two get into a fight?” Dick asked, ready to catch any lying tells.

“No,” Tim said, a little too quickly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Not really…” Tim relented upon seeing Dick’s glare.

Dick adjusted his position, leaning his back against Tim’s headboard.

Tim looked down at his hands.

“You remember the guys we’ve been investigating… The smuggling ring?” Tim asked, sighing in defeat as he closed his laptop.

“Yep.” Dick replied, habitually popping the ‘p’.

“Bruce wants me off the case.”

“What?” Dick asked, furrowing his brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” Tim exclaimed, his weight joining Dick’s against his headboard. “We’re getting close to something, I know it! But he doesn't want me to help…”

Dick sighed, Ever since Jason’s death and Barbara’s paralysis Bruce had gotten more careful about what he let Robin or any of his younger partners do, it didn’t help that he wasn’t the most sensitive person, and he had about as much tact talking to Tim or any of his protegees as a cat did to a canary.

“It’s Bruce, Tim, you know he never does anything without reason.” Dick did his best to reason with the younger boy, knowing that Tim only ever responded to logic and reasoning, and occasionally Jason’s insults.

“But what reasons?” Tim wondered, thinking out loud. “I mean, I know he has his issues, but I can’t always tell if…”

“If he trusts you?” Dick finished, a knowing look on his face.

“It’s just… I’m not like you or Jason, I’m not strong enough to do what you guys can.” Tim admitted, keeping his eyes downcast.

“Timmy,” Dick started, giving his little brother’s shoulders a squeeze. “You’re not Robin because of what you’re not, you’re Robin because you worked for it, we all did.”

“Way to be corny.” Tim laughed, and, although his laugh was made thick with the emotions he was both trying and failing to hide, it was honest.

“You’ve met me right?” Dick asked jokingly in return.

Tim looked back down at his hands, and for the first time, Dick was able to see all the lines that marred them.

Gymnastics rips, old blisters that had busted open, calluses and small reminders of countless scraps, they all made webs on his hands.

Tim might not have been as strong as he was when he first started out, but he’d always been a great detective, and, out of all three of them, he was most definitely the one who worked the hardest to take up the mantle.


End file.
